The Arrogant Duke

by Anne Mather

  Estelle stopped moving about restlessly, and stared at her. 'I really believe you mean that, Rosemary.'

  'Of course I mean it,' exclaimed Juliet, a little angrily, angry because inside her heart felt as though it was being torn apart by the strength of her emotions. But it was not love. That moment of revelation on the beach was not love. It could not be. It was infatuation. Love was a gentle thing, not this ravening monster that held her in its thrall.

  Estelle smiled, rather smugly, Juliet thought. 'I'm so glad you understand, my dear. It's very difficult for me to have to broach such a subject, but Felipe seems to have no idea of the effect he has on susceptible females.'

  'I am not a susceptible female,' said Juliet tightly. 'Unlike Portuguese women, British women are encouraged in gaining complete independence, and the Duque is by no means the most attractive man I have met!' She said this with vehemence, causing Estelle's eyes to narrow slightly.

  'You mean you have known a lot of other men?' questioned the older woman, her eyes enigmatic.

  Juliet shrugged her shoulders. 'Of course,' she said, forcing a light tone. 'You don't imagine British women marry the first man who takes an interest in them, do you?'

  Estelle shrugged. 'Of course, your ways are not our ways. I forget.' This was said with just that touch of arrogance, making Juliet feel wholly inferior.

  'Is that all, then, senhora?' Juliet rose to go. She wanted to get as far away from Estelle as the quinta would allow. Her earlier suspicions of Estelle Vinceiro had been realized. She could be just as ruthless as anyone could be when there was a chance of her plans being thwarted. Juliet began to wonder whether Laura Weston's abrupt dismissal had been wholly justified. Maybe she had become interested in the Duque, and Estelle, afraid of competition, had exaggerated the girl's feelings into something distasteful to a man as fastidious as the Duque de Castro.

  And on the heels of this thought came another. That first day when in her anger she had told the Duque that Teresa was in love with him had resulted in an immediate response. If Estelle was insinuating her opinions into his mind at every turn he might find it difficult to distinguish what was truth and what was not. Obviously Estelle was obsessed with the idea that every woman who laid eyes on the Duque might have designs on him, and he had probably ignored her remarks to begin with. But when she, Juliet, had accused Teresa, she had unwittingly put more power into Estelle's hands by supporting her. Heavens, she thought, what a situation! She was tempted to put the whole affair behind her and return to England with her father if he indeed was there to meet her tomorrow.

  But she knew she would not - she could not! This was something she had to see through to the end, even if that end was anathema to her. And there was always Teresa, who in time, Juliet was sure, would realize the futility of her feelings for a man old enough to be her father.

  And Teresa needed Juliet, that was certain, now that Estelle had revealed herself in her true colours. Estelle didn't care about anybody but herself. Teresa was- just an unnecessary encumbrance, for whom she had to find a companion, to free the Duque for more personal motives. If, through changing companions, Teresa suffered, that was just part of the pattern.

  Estelle now was all smiles. 'It's so good to know I have an ally in you, Rosemary,' she said silkily, but Juliet just shook her head, and somehow walked blindly towards the entrance to the quinta. She dare not speak. For once her emotions ruled her head, and she couldn't have cared less what construction Estelle placed on her abrupt departure.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE next morning dawned bright and clear, a wonderful morning, and yet Juliet found it difficult to drag herself out of bed. Apart from the mental torture of spending a day in the Duque's company, she had the daunting prospect of her father to face and some sort of excuse to offer to the Duque as to why she should want some free time alone in Bridgetown. Of course, as she had not officially had any free time since arriving on Venterra he could hardly object, but he -would be bound to be curious.

  When, dressed in a slim-fitting sheath of scarlet linen, with a scooped-out neckline and no sleeves, she went down to the patio for breakfast, she found the Duque himself breakfasting with Teresa, the sound of the girl's laughter echoing warmly round the impressive environs of the courtyard of the quinta.

  He rose at her approach, wished her Bom dia, and waited until she was seated at the glass-topped table before reseating himself. His expression was enigmatic, and she wished she knew what he was thinking. The previous evening he had dined out, and although she knew she was stupid, the memory of that explosive moment on the beach continued to haunt her thoughts.

  'Are you ready for our trip?' he asked politely, and Juliet nodded.'Yes, senhor. But - well, there was something I wanted to ask you about that.'

  'Oh, yes?' His tone was guarded.

  'Yes. Er - would it be all right if I took a couple of hours off, while we are in Bridgetown?'

  'A couple of hours off?' He frowned. 'Forgive me, what am I supposed to gather from that remark? Surely this day in Bridgetown's hardly working.'

  Juliet flushed. He was making it extremely difficult for her.

  'I know it sounds ungrateful, senhor, but since my arrival here over three weeks ago, I have not had any actual free time. By this—' she hastened on, '—by this I mean time away from either my employers or my employer's establishment.'

  The Duque's expression was glacial. 'I see. I am afraid I have overlooked this point. Perhaps I was foolish enough to imagine that the simple tasks allotted to you here did not actually constitute work. It seems I was mistaken. Of course, Miss Summers, you may take a couple of hours off.'

  Juliet shrank within herself. Even Teresa was looking hurt and distressed, and she felt an absolute heel But how could she explain her real reasons?

  Such an inauspicious beginning to the day did not augur well for the trip. The hydroplane transported them smoothly across the expanse of sea and islands towards their destination, but conversation was stilted, and Juliet half-wished she had waited until later to ask for those few hours of freedom. Now she had blighted not only her own, but Teresa's, day. As for the Duque, he seemed silent and remote, without even his usual gentle tenderness towards his ward.

  In Bridgetown they lunched at a hotel in the city centre, where they could watch the sometimes amusing antics of the policemen on their points, and the kaleidoscopic panorama of humanity that passed beneath their windows. Teresa was enchanted with the donkeys in the high streets, anxious to visit the market and the waterfront, so that when the hands on the clock crept round to two-thirty Juliet did not think it would be too difficult to effect her escape. The Duque had a car on the island, and it had been awaiting them at the airport, and Juliet vaguely imagined that he would take Teresa on a sightseeing tour after lunch, leaving her free to keep her assignation.

  However, when she suggested that now would be a suitable time to leave, the Duque failed to respond in the manner she had expected.

  'Tell me, senhorita,' he murmured, as they stood beside the luxurious automobile, parked irreverently in a No Parking area, Teresa sitting patiently in the front sea, 'am I wrong, or do you have some assignation to keep?'

  The hot colour surged into her cheeks, and she moved uncomfortably beneath those piercing dark eyes.

  'Please, senhor,' she exclaimed, 'can you not allow me these few minutes of free time without requiring a detailed explanation of everything I do?'

  The Duque's expression darkened. 'No, I cannot, senhorita!' he replied, his tone suppressing the anger she could feel that was emanating from him. 'While you are in my employ I will know where and how and with whom you spend your time!'

  Her emotions drawn to a taut, feverish thread, Juliet felt an unreasoning fury at his arrogant words.

  'Just who do you think you are talking to?' she exclaimed angrily. 'I may be in your employ, but you don't own me!'

  'Senhorita, you overstep yourself,' he snapped furiously.

  'It is you who overstep
yourself, senhor!' she retorted, uncaring of the interested, speculating glances that were being cast in their direction.

  'Senhorita, I am known in Barbados, and I do not intend that you should make a fool of me, and incidentally yourself, in the heart of its capital,' he muttered violently, and almost without her realizing what he was doing, he opened the rear door of the vehicle, thrust her inside, and slammed the door after her; climbing into the front, and setting the car in motion before she had time to gather her startled wits.

  'How dare you!' she gasped, leaning forward, and even Teresa seemed astounded at her guardian's uncharacteristic behaviour. She looked at him sideways, and said:

  'Surely Senhorita Summers is entitled to do as she pleases, Tio Felipe!'

  The Duque gave her a stony glance. 'This is nothing to do with you, Teresa, and you will please to keep out of it.' He swung the car recklessly round a corner, causing Juliet to cling on to her seat, and then said: 'If you will tell me your destination, senhorita, I will take you there.'

  Juliet compressed her lips. The Hauser Reef Club was hardly the type of place a girl of limited means would choose as a meeting place. Then, her anger overriding other considerations, she made up her mind. After all, the Duque would not know why she was going there; it would do him good to have something he couldn't understand to think about.

  Biting her lip, she leant forward again. 'The Hauser Reef Club,' she said coldly. 'You'd better hurry. I have to be there for three o'clock!'

  'Do not give me orders, senhorita, or you may find yourself in even greater difficulties than you are at present!' he snapped, and Juliet felt suitably chastened. Despite her brittle words, she hated this, and she wished she could just have met her father without all this hateful antagonism.

  The Hauser Reef Club was outside Bridgetown, on the coast, luxurious, opulent, standing in brilliantly colourful surroundings, its kidney-shaped swimming pool overhung by frangipani, jessamine and scarlet hibiscus.

  Guests were accommodated in individual chalets in the grounds, each with its own special charm of surroundings, all within sight and sound of the sea. A large clubhouse accommodated the restaurant and nightclub, but meals could be served in guests' chalets if required.

  As the Duque swung round the central forecourt, to halt before the colonnaded entrance, to the clubhouse, and Juliet slid swiftly out of the car, a tall, broad, middle-aged man came eagerly out of the swing doors, hastening down the steps to greet her. His dark hair, tinged with grey, his expression anxious, and maybe a few more lines to his forehead, were all so suddenly dearly familiar to Juliet, that words were unnecessary, and at his relieved cry of 'Juliet!' she ran across and was gathered closely into his arms. Only the harshly slammed door of the Duque's car, and his swift, wheel- churning departure, marred the moment for Juliet.

  But then her father commandeered her thoughts, to the exclusion, for a while, of all else.

  'My God!' he muttered, when at last he released her, only to place an arm about her shoulders. 'If you ever do that to me again…' He shook his head. 'What in hell do you think you're doing? When I got Maxwell's message I was practically at my wits' end!'

  Juliet composed herself, and they walked across the exotically green lawns to Robert Lindsay's chalet. Once there, they seated themselves on the verandah, overlooking the creaming waters of the blue Caribbean, and a steward brought daiquiris. Juliet lit a cigarette, and relaxed a little, putting all thoughts but those concerning her father out of her mind.

  'Now,' said Robert Lindsay, after he had lit himself a cigar, seating himself closely beside her, as though afraid 'she might suddenly disappear again in a puff of smoke. 'What's going on?'

  Juliet ran a finger along a pleat in her skirt. 'Well, Daddy, you know perfectly well what's going on. I got myself a job.'

  Robert Lindsay studied his daughter's bent head. 'Why?'

  'Do we have to go into all that again? I've told you time and again, I want some independence. All my life you've made every decision there was to be made about my life. You've chosen my schools, my friends; you were even in the process of choosing my husband! Good lord, can't you see how terrible for me that is?'

  Her father frowned. 'Juliet,' he said heavily, 'in this world, there are only two kinds of people: the winners and the losers! I'm - well, I won't say lucky enough, because I don't consider what I have achieved I have achieved by luck, but I will say I'm in that lucky bracket of being one of the winners!'

  'Oh, Dad!'

  'What's wrong now?'

  'This is the same argument you always make! Heavens, life's not as simple as that! Some of the winners, or people you would call winners anyway, aren't winners at all, they're losers! And vice versa. You judge everything on a purely monetary basis! That's why you won't let me choose my own friends. You think that if people are financially inferior, they're socially inferior. It just isn't true!'

  'Well, go on. We'll agree to differ on that point,' said Robert Lindsay, chewing his cigar. 'We're drifting from the point anyway. Why did you go to such lengths to hide what you were doing?'

  'Oh, come on!' Juliet stared at him incredulously. 'You know why I hid what I was doing! Because if I'd told you - or rather, asked you - you would have ridiculed the whole business.'

  'So instead you chose to ridicule me!'

  Juliet compressed her lips, lifting her shoulders helplessly. 'Oh, Dad, it wasn't like that! I only wanted to be able to do what I wanted for a change. I wanted a job, to be able to say I earned that money, it wasn't just given to me, by you! How would you like to have to ask for everything you wanted, and only have it granted if the person you were asking thought it was the right thing for you!'

  'I am your father!' he muttered gruffly.

  'I know that! But I'm twenty-one, Dad. Not some sixteen-year-old; without any sense of values. I have a sense of values. I know what is worthwhile in this world, and what is not! I know that I've achieved something as a person - as a human being, if you like - by doing what I've done.'

  Robert Lindsay rose to his feet, and paced about the verandah floor, sometimes studying her, and sometimes studying the floor at his feet.

  'You realize what a shock this has been to Mandy, of course.'

  Juliet sighed. 'Of course. Oh, Daddy, stop trying to make me feel a heel. Do you think I don't feel one , already?' Then she looked up at him squarely. 'But I must tell you, I didn't get in touch with you because I wanted to. I got in touch with you because of the way you're catechizing Rosemary and her parents!'

  'The Summers?' Robert Lindsay snorted angrily. 'That girl - that Rosemary - she knew where you were all right.'

  'Yes, she did. But she would never have told you. That's the sort of person she is! She has integrity! A quality neither one of us possess in any great measure!'

  'You're talking drivel!' exclaimed her father impatiently. 'Where does integrity get you in this world? I'll tell you - nowhere!'

  'In your world, maybe,' said Juliet quietly. 'But in the world I'm discovering for myself, it exists all right. There are actually people who don't use dollar or pound or franc or deutschmark in every sentence they compose. Who don't care whether this or that company has gained or lost on the stock market; who don't use people!'

  Robert Lindsay stopped his pacing. 'I never knew you hated me so much,' he said heavily.

  Juliet clasped her hands. 'I don't hate you!' she exclaimed vehemently. 'Daddy, I love you. And for all that I've been terrified that you would find me before I was ready to let you find me, I've missed you! Not all the time perhaps, not always consciously, but when I saw you today, now, standing on the steps of the clubhouse, I didn't know how I'd had the courage to make the break!'

  Her father's expression lightened, and he went down on his haunches before her, taking both of her hands in his. 'Juliet, Juliet,' he muttered huskily, 'do you know why I do what I do? Do you know why I fight every rival that comes my way, why I attempt to destroy every company that threatens our livelihood? I do it all f
or you. Yes, you, baby! My baby! The only living memory I have of the dearest and gentlest wife a man could ever have!'

  Juliet felt the hot tears pricking at her eyes. Even while he was protesting his love, and that love was real, she knew that, she was afraid; afraid that this was all some devious, calculated method of gaining her confidence yet again. They had had rows before, plenty of rows, and always her father knew instinctively the best and most successful way to win his own way.

  With an immense effort, she contained her tears, and said:

  'I'm not going back, Daddy. Not yet, anyway.'

  Robert Lindsay rose immediately to his feet, releasing her hands, and lifting his drink swallowed half of it at a gulp.

  'Do you think I'll let you stay?' he said quietly, but ominously.

  Juliet shrugged her shoulders. 'You can't stop me.'

  'So you fondly imagine.'

  Juliet pressed the palms of her hands against her hot cheeks. This was what she had feared. The usual pattern, explanations, recriminations, pleading, and finally — attack!

  She smoked her cigarette. She would not allow him to hear the tremble in her voice. She would not give him the chance to undermine what small defences she might have. The only way to defeat such implacability was by being calm, and cool, and composed.

  Gathering her composure about her, she said calmly: 'How is Mandy, anyway?'

  Her father shrugged his broad shoulders. 'She's well,' he said shortly.

  Juliet felt a moment's half-hysterical amusement. She had expected him to express Miss Manders as being grief-stricken at the very least.

  She continued to smoke her cigarette, and at last he turned. 'Damn you, Juliet, you won't make a fool out of me!'

  Juliet bent her head, and did not reply.

  'Where are you working? Who is employing you? What are you doing?' The questions came sharp and fast.

  Again Juliet did not reply.

  Her father became really angry then. 'Do you imagine that by seeing me you'll have assuaged any anger I might feel against your friends the Summers?' he muttered furiously.